BAI Ch 1

“…thus, the court sentences the defendant Ryu Yeonbi to the maximum penalty of death.”

A commotion erupted. Amid the screams of Noona’s supporters, I had to exert every ounce of effort just to stand upright.

It had been a long trial spanning seven sessions. Throughout it all, Noona never once looked back. She remained calm despite the blood-boiling cheers of her supporters and the applause that echoed through the courtroom as if it would collapse. Everything seemed to her as though it belonged to someone else.

Someone grabbed my hand. It was the son of Gwak Jaeheon, who had been executed two days prior. We both knew that he had been promised leniency for Noona by Kwon Joohyuk, and that he had gone to the execution platform in exchange for sparing her life.

In a voice trembling with rage, Gwak Hyeonwoo spoke.

“We’ve been deceived.”

Tears welled up in his large chestnut eyes. I shook off his hand.

“Noona!”

I leapt over the spectator seats and ran toward her. I wanted to go with Noona. I couldn’t let her face that execution ground alone, the same one stained with Gwak Jaeheon’s blood.

Soldiers hoisted Noona to her feet. I saw her tightly bound hands trembling faintly.

“Noona!”

An armed soldier blocked my path. As he swung his baton, a sound like a watermelon bursting rang out. It was only later that I realized it came from my own head.

My vision spun. My arms were twisted behind me, and my cheek scraped against the cold floor.

“Let go, let go! Let me go, you crazy bastard!”

A large hand pressed down on the back of my head. With every ounce of strength I had, I struggled and managed to lift my head slightly. Wet blood trickled down my forehead and nose. When I finally opened one eye to look ahead, Noona was no longer there.

✶⋆.˚

The sound of a pager snapped me back to reality. Ha Shinsung grumbled in an irritated tone.

“What the hell.”

“We have to go.”

Ryujin pushed Ha Shinsung’s shoulder with his foot. It was already the third insertion. The space between his buttocks, holding the hardened, excited flesh, felt like it was tearing apart. His entire body ached as if it had been beaten. Ryujin breathed heavily.

“Pull it out, now.”

Ha Shinsung, staring down at the insertion point, replied.

“Just one more time.”

“I can’t be late…!”

It slid out completely before plunging back in. Ryujin flinched and swallowed a groan. Tears he had been holding back streamed down his face. There was no pleasure in this act. It would have been easier from behind, but Ha Shinsung hated not being able to see Ryujin’s face. He liked his face, so strikingly similar to Ryu Yeonbi’s. He got excited watching his neat, delicate features contort in pain.

Baring his teeth, Ha Shinsung bit down on his stiffened nipple. Ryujin shook his head. He tried to push away Ha Shinsung’s head, which clung to his chest. Both of his wrists were seized and pinned above his head on the pillow.

“Ah…!”

Ryujin’s legs were draped over Ha Shinsung’s shoulders. His body folded completely. His thin legs, raised toward the ceiling, dangled limply.

“Ah, ah, ah! Ah…! It hurts! It hurts!”

It felt like a red-hot baton was stabbing his insides. Ryujin turned his head to hide the flowing tears. Ha Shinsung, breathing heavily, grabbed his chin and forced him to face him.

“Show me your face.”

“You bastard!”

Ha Shinsung chuckled. His movements quickened. Each time he thrust upward, Ryujin’s head banged against the headboard—thud, thud. The pain in his lower body was so intense that he didn’t even feel his head. His tightly clenched lips split, and blood beaded up. Ha Shinsung licked even that droplet of blood.

The pager kept buzzing. Ha Shinsung’s large hand grabbed Ryujin’s thin one as it reached for it, interlocking their fingers.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Please…!”

Nausea surged up. Semen spurted from the swollen opening. Ryujin’s lower body was already a mess of dark bruises, red handprints, and vivid bite marks.

Ha Shinsung, breathing roughly, thrust deeply inside. Unable to even scream, Ryujin trembled like a fish impaled on a harpoon.

“So soft.”

Ha Shinsung’s firm palm brushed across Ryujin’s chest. He pinched his nipple between his fingers and twisted it. When he scraped it with his nails as if stabbing, Ryujin flinched and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop it.”

“You haven’t come once. Are you really that frigid?”

He didn’t answer. Ha Shinsung grabbed his hair and yanked it hard.

“Ah!”

A hot tongue forced its way into his mouth. Ryujin squeezed his eyes shut. The pager’s incessant beeping made him anxious, but Ha Shinsung mocked his urgency by withdrawing his body agonizingly slowly.

Finally, he pulled out. Ryujin let out a pained whimper and drew his legs together. As he tried to curl up on his side with his knees bent, Ha Shinsung’s hand slipped between them.

“What’s wrong with you, again!”

“I’ll clean you up.”

“No thanks.”

Ha Shinsung’s grip tightened. Before his eyes, he forced his legs wide apart.

“I said I’d take care of it.”

“I don’t need it! Get lost!”

The corner of Ha Shinsung’s mouth twisted upward. He grabbed Ryujin’s ankle as he tried to crawl forward and dragged him back. His prone body slid across the bed.

“I said I’d do it.”

“I told you no! I don’t want it! I said no! How many times do I have to—!”

Ha Shinsung pressed down on the nape of his neck. Ryujin’s face was shoved into the pillow, and he flailed, unable to breathe. Muffled sounds—whether moans or curses—escaped him. Ha Shinsung shoved his fingers into the sticky, semen-soaked opening.

“Ugh…”

Ryujin clutched the pillowcase and trembled. Ha Shinsung’s fingers went deeper than necessary. He scraped the inner walls, wiping the clumped mixture of gel and semen onto his thigh. A snicker followed. Ryujin clenched his teeth. This unwanted relationship had dragged on far longer than necessary.

It had been four days since Gwak Hyeonwoo’s arrest. The Disciplinary training corps had a reputation: once you were taken, you’d better prepare for a corpse.

Ryujin had knelt before Ha Shinsung. In exchange for freeing Gwak Hyeonwoo, he had accepted his vile demands.

And this morning, as the drizzle that had started last night thickened into heavy rain, Ha Shinsung had driven off in his black Cadillac. Unreachable all day, he returned only in the evening. And the moment he came back, he dragged him into the room and did this.

Ryujin pulled his exhausted body upright and gathered the scattered clothes from the floor to dress. The pager had stopped, but it would undoubtedly start ringing again soon.

“You went to the Disciplinary corps, didn’t you?”

Ha Shinsung sat on the edge of the bed. Cigarette smoke curled above his head.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see Hyeonwoo hyung? What did he say? When can he get out?”

“We didn’t talk about that.”

“What about the Disciplinary corps people? Didn’t you discuss anything with them?”

Ha Shinsung offshoot of Ha Shinsung’s voice grew rough.

“Stop asking. It’s complicated enough already. Don’t make me worry about you too.”

Ryujin, buttoning his shirt, looked up.

“What do you mean by that?”

“What?”

“You said you’d get Hyeonwoo hyung out. You promised me!”

“I know. I know, but if I open my mouth carelessly now, everything will go wrong. It’ll all fall apart. So just stay quiet for now. That’s all you need to do.”

“But you should at least tell me what’s going on!”

“Stop nagging.”

“Am I nagging right now?”

“Just stop!”

Ha Shinsung turned to look at him. Ryujin glared back at him.

“Don’t you dare break your promise. I won’t let it slide.”

Tears were on the verge of falling. Ha Shinsung’s tone softened.

“Hey. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow morning Gwak Hyeonwoo will be in the kitchen making his deadly tomato juice. Just wait. Okay?”

Ryujin didn’t respond. He simply swallowed his anxiety and impatience along with his dry saliva.

As if on cue, the pager blared again.

<Haebeom 1>

It was right after third period ended. My homeroom teacher, dressed in a bright yellow dress with an ill-fitting black cardigan, called me out. Her eyes were red as she handed me an early dismissal slip, saying my aunt was waiting.

My aunt drove to the plaza. Torrential rain pounded the car windows. She didn’t say a word. A sense of dread crept over me.

I gripped the strap of the bag on my lap. I didn’t ask what was happening because I was afraid of her answer. It had been a week since my father’s arrest.

The entrance was teeming with people. My aunt honked the horn like a madwoman. I covered my ears.

Three heads hung from the plaza’s clock tower. A soldier, standing before a blood-stained guillotine, read the Leader’s proclamation in a solemn voice. It was too far to hear clearly. My aunt pushed through the crowd with all her strength. In one hand, she held a large plastic bag; with the other, she gripped my wrist tightly.

Less than a minute after stepping out of the car, I was drenched. The murmurs of the crowd mingled with the sound of rain. My aunt slapped my cheek hard.

“Get your father down!”

A jeep drove off. As if waiting for the signal, reporters and cameramen rushed in. My aunt swung her bag wildly at them. The noise grew louder. It was a cacophony of crying, screaming, and shouting.

“Desecration of the dead!”

“Get out, you military dogs!”

“Don’t film the student’s face!”

My aunt took off her coat and wrapped it around me. Even so, it couldn’t fully shield me from the flashes raining down from above.

A rope was tied around my father’s face. I had to untie it before it dug deeper into his skin. But the rope was wet from the rain, and my vision blurred with tears, making my fingers slip repeatedly.

My aunt threw the plastic bag at me.

A nauseating stench pierced my nose. I despised myself for thinking of my father that way. I put his head, its severed edge crusted with dried blood, into the bag and tied it as tightly as I could. So he wouldn’t get any wetter.

Furious people stomped on cameras. Reporters with microphones were shoved by the crowd.

We didn’t need to force our way out. A miracle like Moses parting the sea opened a path for us. It was an astonishing sight, but it brought no joy. The plastic bag I clutched felt ice-cold. My father’s closed eyes lingered in my vision. I walked, staring only at my aunt’s back.

At the end of the path, we met other undertakers. Like us, they had come to retrieve their families’ bodies. One of them, like me, wore a black school uniform. Their face was hidden by a deeply pulled-down cap.

✶⋆.˚

Gwak Hyeonwoo was dead. It happened on the third day of his interrogation. Jin Chiwoo, responsible for this mess, was wrestling with a report all day.

“Hey. Buddy. Busy?”

His sidelong glances made it clear he was hoping for help. Shin Haebeom mercilessly ignored his friend’s SOS.

“I told you to go easy on him.”

“He came in with his ribs already smashed. And what else could I do when that bastard wouldn’t talk?”

Shin Haebeom chuckled as he twirled his pen. He wasn’t oblivious to his friend’s irritability from quitting smoking. Whatever crap Jin Chiwoo scribbled in that report, as long as it followed protocol, Shin Haebeom planned to let it slide coolly. He said curtly,

“Write about mental and physical weakness.”

“You think anyone would buy that?”

“It’s just formality anyway. Fill the blanks decently and stop whining.”

Shin Haebeom tilted his head.

“No word from Jung Ryujin?”

“Nope. Those info corps bastards rarely come out anyway. He’ll probably lay low even more now, because of Gwak Hyeonwoo.”

“Shame.”

“Why, you into him? Turned on?”

“…”

Shin Haebeom glanced at the monitor. A photo of Jung Ryujin, taken at the scene, was on the screen.

“Chiwoo, come here.”

“What?”

It was blurry and out of focus from being shot from a distance. Even so, his appearance stood out. Anyone could tell he was Ryu Yeonbi’s blood. Shin Haebeom pulled up a photo of Ryu Yeonbi he’d found online and displayed them side by side.

Jin Chiwoo muttered,

“Fucking identical.”

“They look alike, huh?”

“Seeing them in photos, they’re like twins, man. If Ryu Yeonbi were a guy, this is exactly what she’d look like.”

Jin Chiwoo clicked his tongue.

“If I were him, I’d get plastic surgery. How do you live as the nation’s adulteress’s little brother?”

“His face is too good for the knife.”

“…Be honest. You’re moved by this guy, aren’t you? Tempted?”

Shin Haebeom swatted away his friend’s hand poking at his side.

“With a face like that, you can’t hide. It draws eyes even if you do nothing. Changing your name a dozen times wouldn’t matter. People would figure it out eventually.”

The cigarette smoke Shin Haebeom exhaled clouded the monitor.

“News about Gwak Hyeonwoo must’ve reached the organization by now, right?”

“They took the body, so no denying it.”

Jin Chiwoo sighed.

“He only had an old mom on his registry. Wonder how they’ll handle the funeral.”

“If you’re that worried, send a wreath.”

“Hey!”

Jin Chiwoo’s tone suddenly turned sly.

“So, how was it meeting Ha Shinsung, the poster boy of the rebels?”

“More ordinary than I expected. Guess he’s the type who looks better in photos.”

“…”

“What?”

Jin Chiwoo’s expression was odd.

“Forget it. Everyone’s a hunk in your eyes. Just jerk off to a mirror.”

Back at his desk, Jin Chiwoo propped both feet up on it. Shin Haebeom frowned but didn’t bother stopping him. Grinning, Jin Chiwoo pulled a lollipop from his drawer and popped it in his mouth.

A clear voice came through the radio.

“Allegations of widespread fraudulent hiring have surfaced in the 23rd public recruitment for Shinryongmun. His Excellency the Leader has promised a thorough investigation into the pervasive corruption in public institutions and vowed to hold those who passed fraudulently accountable…”

Jin Chiwoo spat out the lollipop. Fucking appetite-ruining bastards. They hog all the good stuff.

“Shitty. This’ll get buried too, huh?”

“Probably.”

“But seeing it on the news means there’s some hope, right?”

“It’s just them saying, ‘We’ll fix it, so bear with us.’ ‘Dear citizens~ Please don’t doubt our Leader’s integrity~!’”

“Fuck, stop mimicking them, it’s shitty!”

Shin Haebeom dodged the flying lollipop and snickered. In his head, he thought, Yeah, this really is a shitty country.

✶⋆.˚

Ryujin hurried his steps.

He stood before a shabby three-story building with exposed concrete walls and windows plastered with colorful ads.

A crew member checked his face and opened the door. A sarcastic voice greeted him as if waiting.

“Bitch. Fucking late.”

Terror crew leader Cha Moeun waved lazily.

“Sorry.”

“Come here. Come here.”

Ryujin walked over, trying not to let his limping show. He stood at attention in front of Cha Moeun. She held out her hand.

“Pager.”

After confirming it worked fine, Cha Moeun smirked.

“Works well?”

“Yes. No issues.”

“Then why are you only showing up now?”

A crew member behind Cha Moeun closed his eyes. A plastic bottle full of cigarette butts flew past Ryujin’s ear.

“Ryujin-ah, why are you only here now?”

“…”

“Ryujin-ahhh. Why are you only here nooow.”

Cha Moeun giggled.

“I told you not to keep Noona waiting.”

“Sorry. Something urgent came up…”

“Urgent? What was it?”

Cha Moeun shot up from her seat. The stench of alcohol hit him as she strode right up to his face.

“There was… something urgent, and I couldn’t leave right away. I’m sorry.”

“So! What was this urgent thing! Tell me, you crazy bastard!”

“I’m really sorry.”

His repeated apologies fell flat. She was already drunk.

“Ryujin-ah.”

“Yes.”

The moment he answered, a slap flew at him.

“Jung Ryujin, you fucking bastard.”

“…”

“Answer me, you punk.”

“Yes.”

“Good! This filthy punk finally knows who he is!”

Cha Moeun’s hands grabbed Ryujin’s collar. His eyes wavered as he was shoved back against the wall with crushing force.

“Leader…”

“Ryujin-ah. Noona’s heart feels empty. With Hyeonwoo taken like that, I can’t sleep at night.”

“It’s not your fault, Leader. And Ha Shinsung—no, our leader—promised. Hyeonwoo hyung will definitely get out. He’ll come back healthy, and we’ll see him again!”

“You believe that!”

He was speechless.

“…What?”

Cha Moeun’s face twisted. It was impossible to tell if she was laughing, crying, or in pain.

“Are you an idiot?”

“What do you mean? Our leader definitely—”

“If you’ve got a brain, use it! Not just for sucking off those dickheads!”

“Leader!”

“It’s been four days already. If he could get out, he would’ve by now.”

“Leader, Hyeonwoo hyung is alive.”

“Did Ha Shinsung tell you that?”

His throat tightened.

“Leader…”

Cha Moeun hung her head.

“How can you trust him?”

Be honest, Cha Moeun said.

“Do you really believe it, or do you just want to? I’ve told you since I joined. Don’t rely on Ha Shinsung too much. He’s not what he seems on the outside. Right?”

“Leader, you’re drunk.”

A terror crew member approached to stop Cha Moeun. It was no use. She shook off the arm and lunged at Ryujin again.

“That’s why I told you! Stay out of our business!”

“Leader!”

“Jung Ryujin! You’re responsible too. I remember everything you said back then. What did you tell me? That if the info crew takes the lead, there’d be no mistakes? Hey, you crazy bastard. So what’s the result now? What is this! You cheap punk no one would fuck even for free!”

“Leader! Stop it!”

The crew members trying to intervene were flung aside. Punches rained down on Ryujin’s face, neck, and chest.

“You! How could you do that to Hyeonwoo! How could you!”

One crew member grabbed Ryujin’s shoulder to pull him away. But he stood rigid, unmoving. Someone’s shout to run sounded distant.

Run…

I’d said that too.

With bull-like strength, Cha Moeun threw off the crew and charged again. Ryujin took it silently. It didn’t hurt at all. His body was here, but his mind was in another dimension.

Ryujin sifted through his memories.

Two weeks ago, Gwak Hyeonwoo had thrown out a random question.

‘Ryujin-ah. If you got a girlfriend, where would you take her?’

Gwak Hyeonwoo was shy. Forget a girlfriend—he couldn’t even look a crush in the eye without fumbling. He couldn’t use his sharp mind in conversation. Nor did he have a knack for grooming or dressing well, so he was always insecure about romance.

‘Nothing fancy. Dinner at a nice restaurant, chatting at a café. Somewhere with good cake.’

That might’ve been when it started. Rumors about something odd between terror crew leader Cha Moeun and info crew member Gwak Hyeonwoo began circulating.

He hadn’t asked outright. He believed if it were true, he’d tell him first. Since the day they’d each lost someone precious, Jung Ryujin and Gwak Hyeonwoo had shared everything.

Cha Moeun roared.

“If you’d spent even half of half the time you waste sucking Ha Shinsung’s dick thinking about Hyeonwoo!”

Every word from Cha Moeun pierced like an arrow. Ryujin sank to the ground.

✶⋆.˚

Ryujin walked through the pouring rain. His red-dyed hair stuck to his cheeks with a wet slap.

The soaked leather jacket weighed him down. His heart sank even heavier. Ryujin wiped under his eyes with a damp sleeve.

A terror crew member offered to take him to the dorm, but he refused. He knew it wasn’t sincere. Within <White Lion>, the radical terror crew and the moderate info crew clashed and growled at each other constantly.

That’s why Cha Moeun and Gwak Hyeonwoo’s relationship was so unexpected. At the same time, several crew members pinned hopes on them. The vibe between the two teams hadn’t been bad lately. Not until Gwak Hyeonwoo was nabbed by the Disciplinary corps.

Ryujin was an info crew member. Under info crew leader Ha Shinsung, he handled propaganda production and distribution. Gwak Hyeonwoo, who’d been in a newspaper club before dropping out of college, joined the same crew for his writing skills.

It was all him.

He’d been the one to convince Gwak Hyeonwoo to join <White Lion>. Four days ago, he’d suggested he tag along on the terror crew’s mission.

Lately, Ryujin had grown fed up with the info crew’s passivity. He envied the weapons the terror crew got. Above all, the name “terror crew” carried a power that made people cower. Among <White Lion>’s five leaders, Cha Moeun, charging ahead with a machine gun, was the coolest. He couldn’t deny wanting to help Gwak Hyeonwoo, who’d built a good rapport with someone like that.

Gwak Hyeonwoo was deep in thought. He felt inferior compared to Cha Moeun. In terms of experience within the organization, age, and rank, he fell short of him, and so he wanted to prove his abilities even just once.

“It’s been a really long time since I last felt this desire to be recognized by someone.”

Ryujin shook his head. There was no way to turn things back now. The only thing he could rely on at this moment was his promise with Ha Shinsung.

He was the boss’s only son. Ha Shinsung’s pleas could convince Ha Sungrok, the boss of <White Lion>, to endure a certain degree of loss.

The second floor of a dilapidated four-story villa, its outer walls cracked wide open, served as the lodging for the intelligence team.

It was far too cramped for six adult men to use. Still, for Ryujin, it was a precious home where he could rest his wandering body with nowhere else to go.

The door was open. A pair of luxury leather boots, which looked out of place in the shabby lodging, caught his eye. Among the people who came and went here, Ha Shinsung was the only one who wore such things.

“You’re still here.”

Ryujin said, standing at the entrance.

“I thought you’d left.”

Ha Shinsung was on the sofa. The living room was thick with smoke, as if he’d been smoking the entire time.

“Get me a towel.”

“What? Did you get caught in the rain?”

Ryujin nodded. His face, reflected in the shoe cabinet mirror, looked like a corpse. Ha Shinsung clicked his tongue as he approached and scolded Ryujin.

“Didn’t have money to buy an umbrella? Then you should’ve called me. What’s the point of having a pager if you’re just gonna use it to boil soup? Seriously, at your age, you still can’t take care of yourself…”

Ha Shinsung, who had been firing off words like a machine gun, froze. Ryujin had thrown himself into his arms, still drenched.

“What’s this? What’s wrong with you?”

Ha Shinsung was flustered. He thought he knew Ryujin well. Jung Ryujin wasn’t the type to whimper just because he got harsh words from a superior. With an elegant, aristocratic face, he was a tough bastard who could calmly spit out things like, “Would screwing you fix this?” He was a ruthless guy who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

“Who called you?”

Ryujin didn’t answer. He just clung tightly to Ha Shinsung’s waist with both arms.

“Jung Ryujin. Answer me.”

“…”

“Don’t want to talk? Should I make you?”

He grabbed Ryujin’s shoulders and forcibly pulled him off. Ryujin shook his head and lunged at him again. Ha Shinsung inwardly clicked his tongue. If it were Gwak Hyeonwoo, he might’ve indulged this kind of childishness, but that wasn’t who was here right now.

“Answer me.”

Ha Shinsung grabbed Ryujin’s chin. The face revealed in the light was a mess.

“What’s this?”

He turned it this way and that. Forehead, temples, eyes, cheeks, lips—there wasn’t a single spot left unscathed.

“Did you get lynched?”

Ha Shinsung gritted his teeth internally. Seeing the long, ragged wound stretching from his lips to his cheek, he made a guess. Not many people carried a weapon capable of tearing flesh like that on their fingers.

“Cha Moeun?”

He knew the atmosphere between Gwak Hyeonwoo and Cha Moeun was good. He also knew that Cha Moeun had caused a ruckus in front of the boss on the very day Gwak Hyeonwoo was arrested. At the time, Ha Sungrok had reassured him, saying he’d bring him back no matter what, so there was no need to worry. Four days was more than enough time for Cha Moeun’s patience to wear thin.

Cha Moeun had summoned Jung Ryujin and subjected him to retaliatory beating. The terror squad wouldn’t have stopped it.

“Jung Ryujin, answer me. Did Cha Moeun do this?”

“It’s not like that.”

“What do you mean it’s not?”

“My jaw hurts. Let go.”

Ha Shinsung let out a dry laugh. When had he ever clung to him like an abandoned puppy?

“You want to lean on me, but you don’t want to tell me what happened?”

Ha Shinsung stripped off Ryujin’s wet jacket. Ryujin resisted his rough touch.

“What are you doing!”

“Take it off.”

Ryujin grimaced.

“No. Let go!”

Though his voice was sharp, he couldn’t hide the trembling in his eyes. Ha Shinsung grabbed Ryujin’s wet hair.

“Argh!”

His frail body was flung onto the living room floor. Ryujin couldn’t get up easily and crawled along the ground. He’d hit his lower back somewhere when he fell, and sharp pain shot up his spine. Even his scalp stung.

Ha Shinsung approached. Breathing heavily, he kicked Ryujin in the stomach as he crawled forward.

“Urgh!”

Ha Shinsung’s lips twisted.

“You couldn’t even squeak in front of Cha Moeun, but you think I’m a pushover?”

“Don’t.”

Ryujin glared at Ha Shinsung with teary eyes.

“Don’t, you bastard!”

“Then why’d you mess with me?”

“When did I ever!”

“I’ve never understood this, but shouldn’t you be nicer to me than to Cha Moeun? I covered for you that time too.”

Ryujin’s pretty looks made him an easy target for the crew’s crude jokes. Once it got out that he was the younger brother of the “nation’s adulteress,” Ryu Yeonbi, the teasing only got worse.

Before Ha Shinsung could warn the crew, things blew up. One of the members who’d been relentlessly harassing Ryujin—suddenly hugging him from behind or telling him to get into his bed—ended up with his head smashed by a soju bottle.

“I covered that up for you, Jinah.”

It was a clear case of team-killing with solid evidence. Ha Shinsung was the one who convinced the crew member who wanted to report it to the boss. Still, an example had to be set. That day, Ryujin was rolled up in a wet summer blanket and beaten—just enough not to break any bones—in front of the entire crew by their leader, Ha Shinsung.

“It ended that lightly because it was me. Right? Because it was me.”

“And now you’re saying I should thank you for that!”

“I’m just saying it feels like you’ve been treating me too coldly.”

“Piss off! You damn bastard!”

“This is driving me crazy, seriously.”

“The one going crazy is me! When are you going to keep your promise!”

Ha Shinsung clenched his jaw. Day and night, it was always Gwak Hyeonwoo, Gwak Hyeonwoo, Gwak Hyeonwoo…

“Don’t you ever worry about me?”

Ryujin’s face contorted.

“You’re the same as Hyeonwoo hyung?”

Ha Shinsung balled his fist. It stung. To think he was less than that bespectacled weakling.

“Ryujin-ah.”

He crouched down in front of the fallen Ryujin and reached out to stroke his wet hair.

“When someone calls you, answer.”

“Don’t call my name, you filthy bastard.”

“Now you don’t even like me calling you? Why? It’s not even your real name anyway.”

Ha Shinsung grabbed Ryujin’s hair and lifted it.

“Let go…!”

The fierce look in his eyes sent a thrill through Ha Shinsung’s lower body.

✶⋆.˚

An empty lotion bottle rolled by Ryujin’s head.

“Ah, ah, ahh… ugh.”

His palms slipped on the floor. Propping himself up on his elbows, Ryujin counted the tears and blood drops falling onto the living room floor. His hips, raised to match Ha Shinsung’s height, trembled uncontrollably.

The hole enveloping the tip felt like it was tearing apart. His whole body was breaking into pieces. Ha Shinsung was always rough and violent. Ryujin keenly realized that even this was him holding back in his own way.

Ha Shinsung wasn’t just angry. His eyes were clouded with jealousy over Gwak Hyeonwoo. He pounded down with such force that white lotion splattered everywhere, mocking Ryujin’s attempts to ease the pain by matching his rhythm.

This wasn’t sex. It was an assault—a dominant male in the pack forcing a young, weak male into submission.

“Ah, hic, ugh, ah! Ah, ah…!”

Forcing his collapsing hips back up, Ha Shinsung spoke.

“Take it.”

“You bastard… just die.”

He couldn’t breathe. It felt like his displaced organs were about to burst out through his throat.

“Ugh! Hic!”

His bitten lip tore, and blood beaded up. The wound Cha Moeun had made reopened too. The blood drops falling to the floor multiplied quickly.

Ha Shinsung pulled his hips back and slammed in again.

“Ah!”

With a thud, lotion splashed. The relentless force driving into him was brutal. Pubic hair brushed against his buttocks, then pulled away, over and over.

Ryujin’s fingernails scraped the floor until they bled.

“Hah, ugh, ah, ahh, ahh!”

Ha Shinsung was one-sided and reckless. His speed was beyond anything Ryujin could keep up with. The shifting, stabbing motions left Ryujin on the verge of losing consciousness.

“Ugh… hic.”

He weakly stretched one hand back. Ryujin feebly struck Ha Shinsung’s muscular thigh.

“Stop, please. Stop. Enough.”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Stop… please. Let me go.”

Ha Shinsung laughed. Instead of pulling out, he pressed down hard on Ryujin’s back as he lay prone before him.

“Agh!”

The thick shaft scraped his inner walls as it thrust in and pulled out.

Ryujin buried his face in the floor, groaning.

“Ugh…”

Ha Shinsung rotated his hips slowly.

“I pulled back a bit. Feel better?”

He didn’t pull out completely. The thick tip remained lodged in the opening. Ha Shinsung stared down at the junction, then slowly pushed his body forward again.

“Yeonwoo-yah…”

Ha Shinsung’s sweat-drenched chest pressed against Ryujin’s quivering back.

“Ryu Yeonwoo.”

The inner walls tightened around his shaft.

Ha Shinsung burst into laughter. He grabbed Ryujin’s limp member.

“Our Yeonwoo, you’ve got to finish at least once, right?”

“Don’t call me that…”

“Why not?”

Ha Shinsung’s words drawled. His voice was thick with amusement.

“It’s your real name, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t some grand secret. A quick internet search would pull up his name right alongside Ryu Yeonbi’s. Ryu Yeonbi’s younger brother, Ryu Yeonbi’s sibling, Ryu Yeonbi’s family… Even after his death, the public’s morbid curiosity never waned.

The name Ryu Yeonwoo only started gaining traction after Ryu Yeonbi’s execution. His name, where he lived, the school he attended—every detail about Ryujin floated in the vast sea of information. When photos finally surfaced, Ryujin could no longer live under his original name.

That thought alone made Ha Shinsung pity this scrawny kid beyond measure.

“I’ll make you finish.”

He gripped the limp member and shook it. Matching Ryujin’s moans, he rocked his hips. The way the inner flesh clung tightly to his shaft was satisfying. It was a body worth the effort of breaking in.

Their two connected bodies fully overlapped. Ha Shinsung stabbed into the deepest part of Ryujin’s body again and again, holding back the rising urge to release. It hadn’t been long since they started. He had no intention of ending it this soon.

“Ah, no… no…!”

“You’re numb, aren’t you?”

He stroked from the base to the tip, rubbing the head with his fingers.

“Be honest.”

Ryujin sobbed. He’d do anything. Anything to escape Ha Shinsung’s grip.

“Answer me. You’re numb, right? This thing can’t function like a man’s, can it?”

Ryujin nodded, crying out loud like a child. Ha Shinsung chuckled.

“Such a waste of a face, Yeonwoo-yah.”

Ha Shinsung bit and licked Ryujin’s earlobe. The rough piercing scars caught on his tongue.

“…”

Ha Shinsung straightened up. He stared at the pale body sprawled on the living room floor. Ryujin, unable to hold up his twisted neck, gazed blankly into space with unfocused eyes.

Ah… that vacant face.

It was the expression he made when his back passage was fully opened.

His small face was a mess of blood, sweat, tears, and saliva. Yet it was still beautiful.

When Ryujin was younger, his face was identical to Ryu Yeonbi’s. The distinction of gender was almost ambiguous. It wasn’t quite like that anymore, but even now, his androgynous features and fine bone structure gave off a strange aura that drew people’s attention.

Ryujin was popular among the younger staff who didn’t know much about the Gwak Jaeheon Gate. He’d overheard several times how his vibe was different from the rough crew members. In the past, being Ryu Yeonbi’s younger brother was a fatal flaw that disrupted his daily life, but time passed, and the shock naturally dulled. Even back then, there were plenty of rumors asserting the siblings’ innocence.

Ha Shinsung could easily guess why his father had brought Ryujin in.

It was dramatic. Jung Ryujin’s life.

The cause was Ryu Yeonbi. A girl singer who debuted spectacularly with stunning beauty and an otherworldly, enchanting voice.

The ripples Ryu Yeonbi caused were massive. The entire nation buzzed about her and Chief Secretary Gwak Jaeheon. After Kwon Ilhyuk’s Samryong execution ceremony, Ryu Yeonbi was an asteroid that triggered yet another tidal wave.

Ha Shinsung was curious. If he could, he’d ask. Ryu Yeonbi, were you really Gwak Jaeheon’s mistress? Were you truly the villainess who disrupted society and shook the nation’s foundation? Really?

Curled up, Ryujin whimpered.

“Go… go away. Don’t look.”

Ha Shinsung sighed. Jung Ryujin might be a tough bastard, but he couldn’t believe he shared the same blood as a villainess like Ryu Yeonbi.

✶⋆.˚

Past midnight, Shin Haebeom was still in the office.

His gaze darkened as he stared at Gwak Hyeonwoo’s personal details displayed on the monitor.

Gwak Hyeonwoo. 23 years old. Son of former Chief Secretary Gwak Jaeheon.

Aside from an elderly mother, he had no other living relatives. No regular contact with extended family was confirmed either. His highest education was a college dropout, and on paper, he had no job. In short… it was simple. There was no one who’d question Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death enough to challenge the Disciplinary Task Force.

Of course, there was one troublesome group. The terrorist organization <White Lion>, led by rebel leader Ha Sungrok.

Gwak Hyeonwoo wasn’t an ordinary young man. He was a member of <White Lion>, producing and distributing anti-government propaganda. Shin Haebeom had uncovered that the propaganda recently plaguing the Disciplinary Task Force was a joint effort by the intelligence team and the planning team. Intelligence team leader Ha Shinsung, planning team leader Baek Sayul.

Shin Haebeom moved the mouse. <White Lion> was a well-known anti-government group thanks to its unique sales tactics. He’d heard Ha Shinsung’s looks played a big role in raising the organization’s profile.

A photo of Ha Shinsung appeared on the monitor. The caption below was concise.

“Rebel poster boy.”

Sun-tanned skin, sharp features. Ha Shinsung exuded a wild, distinctly Chinese-handsome aura. He was tall and well-built too. Few people stood eye-to-eye with Shin Haebeom.

Was he like that even as a kid…?

Shin Haebeom lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. When Ha Shinsung came to retrieve Gwak Hyeonwoo’s body, he’d wanted to ask something inwardly. That skinny, tiny-faced kid who was with Gwak Hyeonwoo back then—how’s he doing?

“…”

Gray smoke clouded Shin Haebeom’s vision.

Jung Ryujin. Real name: Ryu Yeonwoo.

He was indeed Ryu Yeonbi’s biological younger brother. The reason for his name change was adoption by a relative after Ryu Yeonbi’s death.

His life didn’t seem to have been smooth. His school records were packed with transfers. Not because he moved, but because he switched schools within the same area.

He considered the families of Ryu Yeonbi and Gwak Jaeheon side by side. It didn’t take long to figure out which side posed the greater risk. From the moment rumors of an affair with Gwak Jaeheon surfaced, Ryu Yeonbi was saddled with massive penalties from canceled contracts.

After his execution, it was obvious who’d inherit that debt. Ryu Yeonbi was an orphan raised by her grandmother. They likely deemed the young, healthy younger brother more capable of repayment than an ailing old woman. The fact that Jung Ryujin was a minor at the time didn’t matter much. With the Republic Party’s collapse, juvenile protection laws had been tossed into the trash too.

Shin Haebeom said the name aloud.

“Jung Ryujin.”

Living under a new name wasn’t easy. Especially when it wasn’t by choice.

“Jung Ryujin…”

He’d heard from Jin Chiwoo that the dying Gwak Hyeonwoo had called out that name. It wasn’t particularly surprising. When they arrested Gwak Hyeonwoo and threw him into the armored truck, it was Jung Ryujin who’d dared to aim a stun gun at him, demanding his comrade’s release.

He couldn’t have been unaware that he’d lose against someone with a real firearm. He didn’t seem that empty-headed. That left one conclusion. To Jung Ryujin, Gwak Hyeonwoo was as important as his own life.

Shin Haebeom laughed aloud.

The son of Gwak Jaeheon and the younger brother of Ryu Yeonbi. Thinking of the two youngsters who’d grown up licking each other’s wounds brought tears to his eyes.

✶⋆.˚

Ha Shinsung peeled off his wet T-shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

“Damn it.”

He’d just fought a war in the bathroom. He’d dragged a writhing Ryujin, complaining of stomach pain, to wash him, dress him, and force-feed him medicine until he finally fell asleep. A crew member who’d woken up and joined the chaos asked Ha Shinsung cautiously.

“You sure we don’t need to take him to the hospital?”

“Where are we going at this hour?”

“He took a bad beating. It’ll be a hassle if he gets a fever.”

“Hassle?”

Ha Shinsung’s voice sharpened.

“What did you just say? Your comrade’s hurt, and you call it a hassle?”

The crew member waved his hands frantically.

“That’s not what I meant, I…”

“Enough. It’s over, so get out.”

“Leader, I really didn’t mean it like that. I’m worried about him.”

“I get it, so go sleep.”

“I’m heading out for work. If Jung Ryujin wakes up, give him more medicine. Make sure he rests until morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Until morning, no exceptions. Got it?”

The crew member nodded. Ha Shinsung threw on the blazer handed to him and stuffed his car keys into his pants pocket. Thinking about the mess he’d have to deal with now made irritation surge.

Club <White Swan>.

The music blared. An unidentifiable beat of no specific genre pounded his eardrums. A roadside club with no dress code and cheap entry fees was popular with cash-strapped youths, thriving every night despite cheap liquor and amateur DJing. Ha Shinsung smirked at the long line snaking from the entrance. Quite the affectionate nightlife hub.

A guard handed Ha Shinsung a staff lanyard. A tag for the second-floor entrance was affixed to the back. He stuffed it into his pocket and asked.

“How many are here?”

“You’re the last one, sir.”

He turned his back on the booming beats and flashing lights of the stage. Ha Shinsung headed to the deepest part of the club. With each step up the second-floor stairs, his heart thudded. Right now, he was a reaper bearing misfortune. He hated this role, but there was no avoiding it.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The moment Ha Shinsung raised his head, he felt Cha Moeun’s piercing gaze.

All five team leaders were gathered. Judging by Ha Sungrok’s expression and tone, they seemed to have grasped the situation, their faces uniformly grim. Their dejected looks annoyed him. Ha Shinsung clenched his fist. He wanted to slam the table and yell—why so serious? It’s not like this is the first time!

But right now, Ha Shinsung had no say.

“Gentlemen.”

Ha Sungrok spoke in a heavy voice.

“Gwak Hyeonwoo of the intelligence team is dead.”

Silence fell. Scanning the room, Ha Sungrok continued.

“He passed away during interrogation in the Disciplinary Task Force’s questioning room. Commander Shin Haebeom contacted me directly. He’ll release the body on the condition we raise no objections. Madam Im accepted the offer and decided against an autopsy. I respect that decision.”

“That’s absurd!”

Cha Moeun shot to his feet.

“Hyeonwoo was tortured to death. We need to know why. And we need to make it known—every detail of what those bastards did to him!”

“Madam Im wants her son’s body returned intact.”

“The family doesn’t know. They can say that because they don’t understand. We’re in an era of famine born from a dictatorship. If you want to live humanely in a world like this, you fight to the death. We…!”

“You’re right.”

Ha Shinsung interjected.

“We have to fight, and we are. In that process, some sacrifices are inevitable.”

“What?”

“The sacrifice of one crew member is something we have to accept.”

Cha Moeun’s face twisted. Ha Sungrok shot his son a cold glare.

“Gwak Hyeonwoo was your crew member.”

“So doesn’t that mean I get a say?”

The reason Shin Haebeom was holding back was obvious. The power struggle between Shinryonggwan’s ‘Big Brother’ Kwon Joohyuk, aide to the supreme leader, and Yu Mihyun, chief strategist, was heating up.

In February this year, Yu Mihyun had picked a fight, pointing out that Kwon Joohyuk, who lacked overseas experience and couldn’t speak an international language, had visited an Olympic host country as the ‘Haedongmun Nation representative.’

She was the purge queen who’d ousted Choi Seokjun, Kwon Joohyuk’s former junior from his editorial days and the political affairs director. Shin Haebeom, Disciplinary Task Force commander and a master of political maneuvering, couldn’t be unaware of where her blade was aimed now.

Ha Shinsung turned to face Ha Sungrok.

“With Yu Mihyun targeting them, the Disciplinary Task Force can’t afford even the slightest slip-up right now.”

The key was how much Shin Haebeom knew about <White Lion>. How much had Gwak Hyeonwoo spilled under brutal torture that severed his lifeline?

If he’d broken his promise and spoken, how steep a price would they pay?

“If Shin Haebeom weren’t wary of Yu Mihyun, who knows what demands he’d have made using Gwak Hyeonwoo’s body as leverage.”

Cha Moeun, about to speak, shut his mouth. He seemed to realize a beat late that they might not have recovered the body at all.

Watching him turn his head in silence, Ha Shinsung inwardly clicked his tongue.

It was almost a relief. Their relationship was straightforward enough—just lovers. Imagine if they’d been married. They could’ve lost a strike team leader over a single grunt.

Planning team leader Baek Sayul stepped in.

“The one responsible for this mess is Lieutenant Colonel Jin Chiwoo of the Disciplinary Task Force. A guy with no real skill who climbed the ranks thanks to good connections.”

The phrase “an empty cart rattles loudest” was made for him.

Cha Moeun clenched his fist.

“Kill that bastard. Make him pay for what he did.”

His voice carried resolve. Ha Shinsung glanced over instinctively and locked eyes with Ha Sungrok, who was looking his way.

Father.

Ha Shinsung recited silently. I know what you’re thinking right now.

Before founding <White Lion>, Ha Sungrok was a tech broker in Shenzhen. He sold his country’s cutting-edge tech to China, raking in a fortune. That money flowed into a revolutionary army resisting Kwon Ilhyuk’s dictatorship. That group was the precursor to today’s <White Lion>.

Even now, Ha Shinsung remembered the errands his father often sent him on.

It wasn’t hard for a teenage boy. Ride a train, and at a specific time, in a specific car, deliver a bag to a passenger in a specific seat. As a kid, Ha Shinsung liked the clattering, fast-moving trains and the sweet snacks the passengers slipped him.

He only learned later—after the train errands stopped—that his father was a revolutionary officer and a confidant of Vice Commander Jin Hyerim, who’d been executed alongside his mother. Jin Chiwoo was that Vice Commander Jin Hyerim’s younger brother.

“…”

Ha Shinsung made up his mind. He wouldn’t judge his father by standards of good and evil. He wouldn’t doubt his decisions or actions. If his father hadn’t abandoned his conscience, Ha Shinsung might’ve ended up a street urchin, hopping onto coal trains, living a hollow life until a meaningless end.

Ha Sungrok had always drilled it into young Ha Shinsung.

“Your mother’s name is Ha Jinju. She’s the head of a top conglomerate in a nation that opens the world’s doors.”

Even with white sores blooming on his face and a gaunt body draped in rags, he never forgot that fact. It was what kept the father and son duo going in a foreign land without proper identities.

“Moeun’s right.”

Ha Sungrok said.

“If you commit a crime, you face punishment.”

It was orthodoxy. Perfectly logical. Yet Ha Shinsung felt unease gnawing at him.

Baek Sayul drove the point home.

“The target is Jin Chiwoo.”

Shin Haebeom was a big shot favored by Kwon Joohyuk, but Jin Chiwoo, his subordinate, was fair game. Above all, the fact that he’d tortured Gwak Hyeonwoo gave them justification.

Ha Sungrok surveyed the room. The seasoned lion’s eyes gleamed, as if he’d clawed his way up from hell.

“We’ll draft a joint pledge.”

Cha Moeun signed first. The team leaders followed, writing their names and pressing their fingerprints. Ha Shinsung was the last in line.